


Rules of Engagement

by KatieHavok



Series: The Journey Itself Is Home [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cultural Differences, Dialogue Heavy, Domestic Fluff, Engagement, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Judaism, Marriage Proposal, Newt Scamander is a Dork, No Smut, Post-Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Romance, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 01:24:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9634583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieHavok/pseuds/KatieHavok
Summary: “My book, as promised,” and there’s pride in his voice, as well as a touch of hesitation. He catches her eye. “That’s the very first copy printed. I made sure of it. My mother and brother received the second and third copies, respectively. They are...unaware of this fact. Mother thinks she has the first, Theseus the second.” He smirks. “Someday, perhaps I’ll tell them the truth.”Tina laughs and folds the book against her chest, holding it tightly. “Thank you, Newt.”





	1. Chapter 1

*

**_July, 1927_ **

Tina spots him first, unable to contain an ecstatic smile. She raises a hand to her face, feeling her grin as though it were an unfamiliar item of clothing, and surrenders herself to joy. She clasps her hands and vibrates with impatience while she awaits him.

Newt allows the crowds to disperse before ambling down the gangplank, familiar battered case in hand. He raises his fingers in greeting when he spots her, before queuing in the line for customs. He makes it through quickly enough, avoiding the agent's eyes the entire time, and before long his familiar duck-footed walk has brought him to her, where he smiles at her shoes in greeting.

“Tina. Hello,” he says, and his smoky voice curls tendrils of warmth around her heart. He lifts his head and his eyes are green-gold and wide. His smile unfurls, slow and sure, and Tina’s eyes prick with delight.

“You’re back,” she manages, and he nods jerkily, eyes drinking in her features. He stares for a moment more, then drops into a squat and sets his case flat. Tina watches him open it, spotting pajamas, a flurry of maps, his battered alarm clock, a pearl-handled straight razor and badger brush—and a discrete brown rectangle, wrapped with twine. He lifts it reverently and locks his case before passing it to her.

“My book, as promised,” and there’s pride in his voice, as well as a touch of hesitation. He catches her eye. “That’s the very first copy printed. I made sure of it. My mother and brother received the second and third copies, respectively. They are...unaware of this fact. Mother thinks she has the first, Theseus the second.” He smirks. “Someday, perhaps I’ll tell them the truth.”

Tina laughs and folds the book against her chest, holding it tightly. “Thank you, Newt.”

Newt drops his eyes and shifts from foot to foot, restless fingers clenching at his side. He watches her carefully from the corner of his eye and doesn’t say anything. Tina looks around, finding the sudden silence uncomfortably familiar, and finally settles on the one thing she knows will bring him out of his shell.

“Are you hungry?” she asks, and he nods without hesitation. Tina tucks the book under her arm and smiles at him. “C’mon, let’s go have something to eat. You must be tired of ship food.”

He nods and gathers his case, tucking his other hand into his pocket. He follows her away from the port, and if theirs arms brush occasionally, or their eyes meet for a heated second, neither of them comment on it.

*

“It’s not the food that’s the problem,” he explains as they push through the Manhattan crowds. “It’s the fact that I suffer from ghastly bouts of seasickness. I inevitably lose weight with every long voyage, and I’ve yet to find a potion or curative that eliminates the problem.” Tina frowns and sidesteps a couples that stops directly in front of them, narrowly avoiding a collision. Newt, despite his distracted air, avoids the obstacle neatly and seemingly without thought.

“There’s gotta be _something_ ,” Tina argues, pitching her voice low in the crowd of No-Majs. “A potion or a charm?” She shares a dubious look with him, and he grimaces and looks away.

“Nothing. I’ve even resorted to Muggle methods. They work little better. The best I’ve found is a leaf I discovered in Greece, but chewing it has the unfortunate side-effect of making me feel rather disconnected from reality, and I can’t effectively take care of my creatures that way. So I suffer for their sake.”

Tina touches his arm and he stops, looking at her in confusion. She juts her chin toward the busy road. “Didn’t want you to get hit by a car,” and there’s a small smile playing around her mouth and eyes. She takes his arm and drags him across the broad avenue, stepping through traffic with practiced ease. Newt follows bemusedly, reminded acutely of the first time they’d met. She stops at her preferred kosher hot dog vendor and grins at him conspiratorially. 

“It’s not a New York experience unless you’ve had a weiner,” she confides, and orders two with extra mustard, not bothering to consult him on the issue. She also orders two bottles of Coca-Cola, dropping her change into the tip cup. She passes his food over and tucks into her own with relish. Newt eats slowly—the food tastes little better than gutter leavings but he’s learned, through the years, to adopt to obscure cultural phenomenon. 

Tina pockets her trash, and when Newt pauses and steps aside to drink deeply from his green glass bottle, she watches his throat work above the crisp edge of his collar. Mouth suddenly dry, she wrenches her eyes away and gulps her own beverage.

He looks at her strangely when he’s finished, eyebrows hoisted, and Tina realizes she’s staring. Flustered, Tina drops her eyes and mumbles about mustard on his lip. He wipes it away and they continue on, shrouded in awkward silence.

*

Queenie greets them at the door with typical enthusiasm, wrapping Newt in a powder-scented embrace he doesn’t bother attempting to evade, and giggling at whatever stray thoughts she plucks from their heads. She urges them to sit while she lights candles, filling the small room with a soft, flickering glow. She flits around to prepare a meal, chatting lightly the entire time.

Tina is somewhat ashamed of her lack of appetite but Newt tucks in with enthusiasm. She notes that he favors the vegetables and starches, eating only enough meat to be polite. He’s a steady eater, fussily _polite_ about the entire thing, and Queenie sometimes looks at him and giggles. He either doesn’t notice, or chooses not to comment on it.

“So, Mr. Scamander,” she says finally, as Tina uses her wand to clean up the meal. Queenie directs a delicate lemon pound cake to the table, and sends a large slice Newt’s way. “Now that you’re back, my sister can stop moping. She missed ya terribly, ya know.” She giggles and dodges a napkin Tina sends flying her way, smirking happily. “I know you brought your book. Has Teenie opened it yet?”

Newt swivels his head to look at Tina, and she drops her eyes. “It’s on the table by the door,” she mumbles, and Queenie directs an _Accio_ toward it. She sets it by Tina’s chair before they tuck into their dessert, allowing the issue to rest for now.

“Well, c’mon Teenie—I’m dying to see it!” Queenie enthuses when they’ve finished, face split into a radiant smile. Tina and Newt share an amused glance. Tina lifts the book carefully, and her hands tremble slightly as she loosens the twine and delicately peel back the brown paper. Newt watches her face nervously, one tense hand clutching a fork. Queenie makes a delighted sound when the book is revealed, and Tina lifts it with breathless reverence.

FANTASTIC BEASTS AND WHERE TO FIND THEM, the cover exclaims in fine gold-foil lettering, set against a midnight blue, pebbled cover. Smaller letters proclaim that the book is written by one Newton Scamander, and the scent of fine leather fills her nose. Tina sighs shakily and opens to the first page, where she finds the publishing information, before flipping to the dedication:

_This book is for J. and Q.—may their love shine eternal; and for T., who’s taught me more of friendship, bravery and selflessness than I ever thought possible._

Beneath that, in the same peacock-blue ink used in all their correspondences, is his own name, signed with a flourish.

Queenie sighs happily, and Tina’s hands shake as she turns the page. The sisters watch as a flush infuses Newt’s face, beginning at his collar and marching upwards. He clears his throat roughly and fidgets the fork in his hand. He finally chances a look at Queenie, and she beams at him before touching his wrist.

“It’s wonderful,” she assures him, and he relaxes with a deep exhale. “Tina’s so excited you used her title, even though she won’t admit it.” Queenie cuts her eyes to her sister but Tina is already immersed, eyes flickering over the page. She smiles in fond exasperation before cleaning up the dessert dishes and turning the full strength of her smile onto Newt. “Come on, you’re not staying at that crummy hotel. We’ll set ya up here. I’ll sleep on the couch, Tina can sleep in my bed and you can sleep in hers. She doesn’t mind, we already talked about it before ya showed up.”

She plucks the inevitable question from his head and giggles as she pulls out spare linens. “Didn’t she tell ya? Jacob remembered me, when I went to visit shortly after he opened his bakery. He remembers you, too, and the murtlap, and the Thunderbird—oh Newt, you should see his pastries, they’re the berries! He makes little cheese nifflers, and occamy pretzels, and he sells out every morning. The No-Majs’ love him.”

Newt’s foot almost catches on the edge of a carpet at that proclamation, and Queenie laughs merrily as she continues. “Here, help me with these sheets, Tina’s lost in your book—yes, he remembers, and he wants to see ya. He wants to thank you in person.” She ducks her head with uncharacteristic shyness before continuing, voice pitched lower. The smile falls from her face, and Newt feels a pang. “Tina worries. She always worries. Rappaport's Law makes what Jacob and I share illegal. Thank you for being discreet in your dedication.”

Newt roughly clears his throat. He speaks as though he’s picking his way from word to word, intent on saying the right thing. “I don’t agree with the laws here. I find them backward and rather churlish. If ever it should happen that you and Jacob are threatened, you always have a safe place in England. I haven’t much, but I am set with a small cottage in Dorset, which sits empty most of the year. It would make a suitable home for a young couple.”

He meets her eyes to project the truth of the statement directly into her head, and she dabs at her face with a delicate lace hankie. Newt looks away until she composes herself. “You’re sweet,” she declares with a watery sigh. “I’ll tell him. Maybe a trip to England wouldn’t be so bad, after all.” Then she smiles, and her eyes crinkle impishly. “Ya know, that cottage in Dorset _would_ make a nice home, and my sister would love it. You should ask her, Mr. Scamander. She wouldn’t say no.”

Newt watches her dress the bed with clean sheets, choosing not to say anything. He’s careful to avoid her eyes for the rest of the evening however, and as the sun sets and darkness draws around them, he does his best to avoid disturbing Tina, retreating into his case to tend to his creatures before accepting a snifter of illegal brandy from Queenie.

Tina’s well into his book by the time he returns, turning pages carefully as she absorbs the information, and it isn’t until Queenie flits about in her nighty and housecoat that Tina looks up and notes the time. “Merlin’s beard,” she exclaims, scrambling up from the table. “Why didn’t you guys say something?”

Newt feels something warm blossom in his chest when she uses his epitaph, and Queenie’s sudden fit of giggles makes him realize he’s projected the accompanying thought. He ignores her and instead directs a shy smile at Tina. “You looked comfortable. Besides, Miss Goldstein and I handled cleaning up, didn’t we?”

Queenie nods with wide-eyed innocence before deliberately plopping onto the couch, her face splitting into a yawn that fools no one. “Oh Morrigan, but I am tired. You two should scat, I need my beauty sleep.” She waves an imperious arm but Newt catches the edge of a well-hidden smirk. He refrains from rolling his eyes, but just only.

“Oh. Uh. Pajamas.” Tina says presently, blinking at the sudden directional changes of their conversation, and trots into the room she and her sister share. She pulls out her sensible blue night clothes and nearly collides with Newt when she turns, finding him directly behind her. He holds up his hands in a non-threatening manner.

“So sorry! Um, I can go sleep in my case, if you prefer. I’ve got a comfortable bed down there. I truly don’t mind.” He shifts, his eyes darting to the twin beds. Then he steels himself and meets her eyes. “Or I can stay here. Erm, with you. I don’t mind that, either.” His voice drops as he speaks, doing something strange to Tina’s insides, and she finds herself nodding rather idiotically.

“Stay. Please stay. Um, I’m going down the hall to change, you...you can use this room, just, uh, close the door. I’ll knock before I come...in.” She doesn’t give him a chance to respond, instead hurrying away. Newt watches her leave bemusedly before shedding his outer layers.

He sets Pickett into his hair while he pulls on his favored brown-and-blue striped pajamas, and the bowtruckle chirrups happily before nesting down on his head. He looks at himself with a critical eye—mismatched, poorly-mended wool socks, faded pajamas and wild hair with a creature tangled into it—and sighs ruefully.

A tentative knock sounds at the door, and he has to take a few even breaths before he can cross the room. “Newt! Are you decent?”

“I’m always decent,” he mumbles without thinking, and she looks distinctly amused as he slides back the door. Newt looks at her and Tina looks at him and they both grow serious and quiet at the frank perusal, cataloging and noting their new vulnerabilites. Then he steps aside and the spell is broken, gesturing her into the room with an odd little half-bow. She smiles at Pickett before climbing into her sister’s bed.

They settle, and when the sheets have stopped rustling she asks hesitantly, “Do you mind if I read? I’m used to later hours and I’m not very tired yet.”

He shakes his head and answer around a yawn. “Not at all. I warn you, though, that I snore. A parting gift from the war—a took a knock to the face, and even though we mended my nose, the septum healed crooked. I’ve never gotten around to fixing it.”

Tina nods and sets her wand to glowing, bright enough to read but low enough to not bother him. She settles back with her book as he shifts and kicks off the blankets. He casts a cooling charm on the room before closing his eyes. “Well. Goodnight, Tina. Sweet dreams.”

She responds in kind before turning her attention to the book. Tina hears the rustle of the sheets as he sighs and settles, and next time she glances up from the page she finds him deeply asleep, head crooked on the pillow, hands folded over his chest with his mouth slightly ajar. He _does_ snore but she can barely hear it, and the sound is gentle and peaceful besides her.

She reads well into the night, until she drowses and the precious book wavers before her eyes. Then she sets it aside and douses the light, turning over to watch him in repose until sleep claims her.

*


	2. Chapter Two

*

**_September, 1927_ **

Newt has been exceptionally fidgety and nervous all day, causing Tina untold amounts of distraction. Two months together had worn him down enough to distance him from his typical awkwardness and bring them to a state of easy familiarity, and now, on the cusp of leaving, it’s like those first tentative days all over again. Tina sets her paperwork aside and buries her head in her hands, patience wearing thin. He notices her frustration and freezes.

“Newt,” she says slowly. “You’ve been scratching the same spot for ten straight minutes. You aren’t doing any revisions because you’ve been staring at the wall. Pickett can’t even stand to be near you, and went back into the case.” She takes a deep breath, holds it, and releases it with a long exhale. “Will you _please_ tell me what bothering you?”

Newt shifts guiltily, cheeks infusing with heat before gathering his items. “Sorry to have disturbed you, Tina. I’ll go...er, down into my case.”

Tina makes a frustrated noise and strides across the room in two steps, moving boldly into his space and reaching grabbing his hand. He freezes for the second time, eyes riveted to where she holds him. Newt swallows audibly, and Tina rolls her eyes in exasperation. 

“It’s been two months. You’ve held my elbow and we’ve held hands while walking through the park, and you’re going to get squirrelly about it _now_? Mercy Lewis, Newt!”

Newt jerks his head away and takes a measured breath. Another one, and he seems calmer. He tightens his hand where it holds hers and rotates his upper body so he faces her properly. Tina smiles tentatively, and he relaxes further still.

“No,” he says finally, and Tina hears the rasp of stubble as calloused fingers rub his jaw. She watches him think, emotions drifting over his features like clouds, before the words are jerked out of him.

“I want to come back and see you,” he admits, and he can’t quite meet her eyes, focusing instead on her shoulder. “But I haven’t a pretext. I find myself wondering if I need one, or if you’ll let me visit on m-merit alone.” He finally looks at her, eyes an ocean of blue-green, and Tina allows the tremulous smile that works across her face. She takes his other hand, winding their fingers together, and he blinks down at them when she runs a soothing thumb over his knuckles.

“You can come whenever you want, Newt. You don’t _need_ a reason. I’m always happy to see you.” Newt releases a pent breath and untangles their fingers to brush her cheek with rough knuckles. He tucks her hair back, much like he had all those months ago, and the magnitude of Tina’s smile increases. “You’re my dearest friend, I’m always happy to see you.”

The smile drops from his face, and Tina watches tension infuse his frame. He lowers his head and steps away, deftly avoiding her eyes. “ _Friends_. Yes.” He heads toward the case, mumbling about the occamy nest and Dougal, and Tina scrambles to catch up to him. She grabs his shoulder and he stops. Tina tugs gently until he turns to face her, face turned away. She crouches to catch his eyes, desperate to read what’s hidden there.

“What did I say?” she questions urgently, desperate to wipe the devastated look from his face. She touches his hair and he goes preternaturally still, eyes wide as she leans close enough to feel the ragged puffs of his breathing. “We are friends, aren't we?” He swallows loudly, and Tina nods. “Yes, we are. So what did I _say_? What hurt you?”

When he makes no move to answer, Tina squares her stance and straightens her shoulders, willing on waiting all day if necessary. His eyes dart from her face to her arms, before rolling up to where she holds him. He voices a frustrated sigh that ends with a growl, and his eyes are flinty when they meet hers. “Is this how you want to hear it?” he asks, and there’s an edge of steel in his tone.

Tina releases him and steps back, folding her arms over her chest. She tilts her chin in challenge, and Newt firms his jaw and keeps his gaze level. “Fine. Tell me like this,” she says in an even voice, and Newt rises to meet the challenge, allowing his frustration to bleed into the words while his eyes bore into her.

“I don’t want to come back as a _friend_ ,” he says with forced levity, fingers curling in frustration. “My affections for you are far deeper than that. I wish to come back and see you as a man comes to see a woman: with the intent and purpose of perhaps, someday, forming a mutually-acceptable pair bond.” 

He snaps a measured breath out of the air before squeezing his eyes closed. Tina watches, mouth hanging open, as his posture wilts when some of the fight drains out of him. “I will be your friend if that’s what you require, Tina, but I feel that there is the potential between us of something far greater than that.” He opens his eyes, and they do not flinch when they meet hers. “And I believe you feel it, too.”

Tina looks away and swallows, feeling suddenly barbaric. “I do,” she admits around the lump in her throat, speaking to her shoes. She allows her arms to fall to her sides as her shoulders relax, unwilling to meet his eyes and the recrimination she imagines resides in them. “I’m sorry, I truly am, because I do know that.” She winces and begins to turn away. “I imagine this isn’t how you wanted this to happen, I’ll just—”

Strong but gentle fingers wrap around her wrist, preventing her from turning away. “No, Tina. Don’t walk away from me. Not now.” Newt brushes his thumb over her skin and Tina shivers. Newt’s other hand rises, finds her shoulder and holds firm. Now it’s his turn to stoop to meet her gaze, smiling in his gentle way. Her eyes, he notes, are inky pools in the light streaming through the window, wide and dark and beautiful. Pickett peaks out from under his collar and meeps at them both before going back into hiding.

“My Newt,” she murmurs, and her hand rises of its own volition to cup his cheek. Her presses into it with a happy sound. She feels the prick of his stubble, the sharp ledge of his jaw. Tina wonders fleetingly how it would feel against her mouth, and represses a shiver.

“Your Newt,” he confirms. He leans into her hand more firmly before turning his head and brushing his lips over her palm. “My Tina,” he says, and his eyes positively dance. “You understand my intentions, then?” and the tickle of his mouth causes the skin on her hand and arm to hump into goose-flesh. Tina wrenches her mind back onto the conversation, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.

“Yes,” she says simply, and he smiles. “But there are things we should discuss first.”

He nods and she allows him to guide her to the couch, where he shoves aside his parchment and quills to make room. He settles her before striding over to the stove and making tea—the No-Maj way, without a single lick of magic. It allows her time to calm herself, which she suspects may have been the entire point, and to work through the tangle of her own thoughts.

Newt settles beside her armed with teacups and biscuits, which he passes to her without comment. She nibbles on raspberry cream wafers as he sips his tea, and she carefully ignores the way his cup rattles gently in its saucer. Newt eventually clears his throat and sets his drink down, turning to her with a politely questioning look.

Tina casts about for the right way to begin, before finally going straight to the heart of the issue. “Scamander—where is that from?”

Newt blinks around a frown, one hand rising to scratch behind his ear. “Er—it’s Greek, I believe.”

Tina nods and nibbles her wafer. “Newt...you know I’m Jewish, don’t you?”

Newt nods thoughtfully, and Tina lets him digest this before continuing. “When I was growing up, we observed certain things, but others were allowed to fall away in favor of being modern. After my parents died, Queenie and I became wards of the state before moving to Ilvermorny. They did their best, and we did _ours_ , but I never did learn or absorb as much as I wanted. We keep these traditions alive now, as best we can, to honor Ma and Pa and our culture.”

Tina takes a deep breath, remembering joyful childhood celebrations, and the endlessly gray time after the death of her parents. Newt touches her wrist with the tip of his finger, drawing patternless shapes into her skin, and Tina finds the resolve to continue.

“I never thought much on marriage, but I always assumed I would marry a Jewish man. Generally, we aren’t allowed to marry a _goy_ —someone who isn’t Jewish—but my instincts tell me that my family would have made an exception for you, Newt. If, uh, we decide to...take that step.”

Newt considers this information quietly, eyes thoughtful. “The preferred method of human pair-bonding _is_ marriage,” he concedes. He looks at her, and she gets the sense that he’s feeling his words out before he speaks, weighing them against his intent. “Tina, if marriage is the goal, then I will do whatever it takes to reach it. What do I need to know?”

 

“Well,” Tina begins, “what about children?” Newt blinks. “I may not be as familiar with my culture as I’d like, but I feel that any children we have should be raised with the customs I can pass along. We’d celebrate Hanukkah and Shabbat, as Queenie and I do, and have Seders on Passover. And on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur we'd go to synagogue." She hesitates at his blank expression before hurrying on. “I’m sorry, I _am_ , I know it’s different from what you’re used to, but you should know this now before we...before you...” She twitches her hands helplessly, and Newt sighs gently. He raises their hands and drops a kiss onto her knuckles. The gesture is new and unexpected and effectively distracts Tina.

He’s smiling when she looks at him with wide eyes, and he quirks a brow at her confusion. “As long as you understand that I also come bearing my own customs. If we can agree to celebrate Christmas alongside Hanukkah, as long as you aren’t opposed to teaching our brood all our individual cultural facets, then I see no problem. It’s my firm belief that a varied education is never a bad thing.”

Tina nods, emboldened by his quiet confidence, and plows on. “There won’t ever be pork in the house, because I keep kosher, so you’ll have to give up bacon. You don’t eat much meat so I don’t think it’s really a sacrifice, but you should know. And...if we have a son, he will have a bris. I’m sorry but that’s something I will insist on.”

Newt looks away thoughtfully, eyes going distant as he scourers his encyclopedic brain for everything he knows on the subject. “Is that...” he asks hesitantly, and he makes an odd little snipping gesture with two fingers. Tina stares before dissolving into giggles, and he endures them stoically before moving on. “It _is_. Right. Um, I suppose if it’s necessary, then I can raise no reasonable argument.” He blanches suddenly, and Tina can read the question on his face. This causes her to laugh harder, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“No,” she gasps, pressing against the stitch in her side. Newt waits bemusedly until the last of her laughter gallops away and she can fetch a few grateful breaths. “No,” she continues calmly enough. “You don’t have to...do that. Just be aware that it will...well. It’s something I have to work out on my own.” Newt considers this, and a thoughtful but comfortable silence falls between them.

“Is there anything else?” he asks eventually. Tina’s been hypnotized by the feel of his thumb on her knuckles, and she hesitates before answering. Newt watches in fascination as a crimson stain colors her cheeks, and her eyes fall to his lap before skipping away. The flush spreads, infusing her forehead and neck.

“The last thing is personal,” she mumbles, and he wisely chooses not to move closer. Instead, he strains his ears as she dissembles to the couch. “I have stepped out with a gentleman or two, and I’ve allowed them to kiss me. But that’s it. It never went any further than that, and neither have...neither have _I_. I don’t intend go further with you, Newt. I will go to my husband on our wedding night without...” She flounders helplessly, words caught in her throat, and Newt saves her.

“I understand,” he speaks in his gentlest tones, and she calms. Tina takes a deep breath and he joins her, breathing together until her skin tone returns to normal and his stilted manners have receded. “I would never expect it of you, besides,” he reassures her softly, and Tina braves a shy smile. He tightens his hold on her hands and his eyes smile back—strong and bright, with no hint of awkwardness.

“Is that everything?” Newt asks, and Tina nods. His mouth softens, and he brushes his lips over her knuckles. “To recap: you wish to raise your future children with your customs. You cannot eat pork because it is anathema in your culture, which means I will also give it up. You have female mysteries that I can only know after marriage—ah, sorry, that came out _entirely_ wrong,” he winces and drops his gaze to his feet, and Tina grins at him affectionately. He hurries on, “and you wish for any male offspring to observe a bris, to strengthen your cultural norms.”

Tina nods. “Yes. That’s pretty much everything. I’m sure I’ll think of more as we go along, but for now that’s the basics of what you need to know.” She swallows nervously. “If you can accept all that, Newt, then I would be delighted and honored if you would come visit me, whenever possible. As a man likes to visit a woman.” She squeezes his hands, and Newt stares at her, transfixed.

His smile, when it happens, is a slow, tremulous thing. It transforms his face into something joyous and almost childlike, and Tina watches it light him from within. He finds her eyes, all traces of hesitancy gone. “Tina,” he breathes. “Allow me to ask formally: may I come back, after I’ve fulfilled my present duty to my Ministry, and see you? May I come bringing only myself, and with the intention of perhaps someday being more to you than simply ‘Newt’?”

Tina nods, and his eyes soften as he drinks in her face. “You’re _my_ Newt but...yes,” she says plainly, and she can’t contain her own smile. “Yes, Newt. Come whenever you want, as often as you want.”

“I will,” he sighs shakily, and it isn’t only joy that makes his eyes shine now. Tina thumbs his tears away, and he presses into her touch gratefully. “My Tina,” he husks, and when he kisses her wrist, she doesn’t turn him away.

“Your Tina,” she confirms, and they sit together until darkness falls around them.

*

Tina sees him off two days later.

Newt stands before her awkwardly, clutching his case and watching her from the corner of his eye. He seems unable to formulate a goodbye, and Tina doesn’t hold this against him; she can’t think of one herself. The ship’s horn blows a 10-minute warning and Newt flinches and cranes his head over his shoulder.

“I should—” he begins, then his case clatters to the ground and he grips her hands, hard enough to ache. “ _I don’t know what to say_ ,” he breathes in a rush, his eyes intent on her. “I don’t have a frame of reference for this situation.” He searches her face and his fingers relaxes, until he lifts her hands to his mouth and peppers her palms with kisses. “I shall write every week,” he promises, and Tina smiles around the tears blurring her vision. “And I shall return in three months. Sooner, if I can manage it.”

Tina moves closer, stepping into his space until her toes touch the case at his feet. She hesitates only a moment before leaning forward and wrapping her arms around him, initiating a close embrace. He sighs and settles his face into the crook of her neck, and she can feel his labored breathing. “Three months,” she confirms, and his arms tighten convulsively. She inhales his scent of wool and parchment and sunshine, committing it to the memory of her heart before squeezing him one last time and stepping back. His hands, she’s pleased to note, do not leave hers.

“Three months,” Newt repeats, and his smile strives to be reassuring. He squeezes before releasing her hands, bending to scoop up his case and striding away. He doesn’t look back. She watches him hesitate on the gangplank, head tipped back and blinking hard at the sky. Then he squares his shoulders and the ship swallows him. Tina is left feeling bereft and empty, and unfathomably alone.

It’s a long, lonely walk back to her apartment.

*


	3. Chapter Three

*

**_December, 1928_ **

Tina hears the tell-tale pop in the hallway, and disentangles herself from an enthusiastically dancing Jacob to head toward the door. Queenie steps in smoothly to fill the gap, and Jacob beams at her.

She swings open the door before he gets the chance to knock, fist hovering awkwardly in the air. Tina takes his hand and pulls him into the apartment, and Newt’s face softens as she helps him shed his outer layers. There’s snowflakes caught in his eyelashes and peppering his cheek, in sharp contrast to the smattering of freckles there, and she is helpless but to lean forward and kiss them away. He holds his breath until she retreats, and her smile is radiant.

“Hello, love,” he says in greeting, pulling her close by dint of his school scarf, which is wound familiarly around her neck. Tina presses close, inhaling the scents of wintry earth and parchment and snow that clings to him, and kisses his cheek. His stubble is rough on her lips, and she feels him gasp when she presses her mouth into the hinge of his jaw. There’s a new warmth in his gaze when she leans away, and Tina has to make a conscious effort to break eye contact.

Jacob has Queenie wrapped in his arms, swinging her around the room enthusiastically. He disengages while Newt hangs his coats and loosens his tie, before ambling over to pull the other man into a hug intended to crack bone. “Newt, buddy, how are ya?” he enthuses, and Newt sounds rather breathless when he replies. They shake hands and fall into the easy talk of their respective careers, Newt’s hands animatedly retelling some adventure or another.

Queenie pulls Tina aside, allowing their men privacy to converse. “I’m going to Jacob’s tonight,” she murmurs, and Tina nods with resignation. Queenie wraps her in a floral embrace, and the elder sister sighs and hugs her back.

“You know I worry,” Tina frets, and Queenie’s strawberry head bobs in her peripheral vision.

“You don’t need to worry, though,” she reassures Tina, wrinkling her nose delicately. “You heard what Newt said. We always have a safe place to go.” Queenie looks over at their men, each nursing a glass of Jacob’s wassail, and sighs happily. “Newt loves ya, you know. He couldn’t stop thinking of you the entire time he was gone.”

Tina sighs. “Please don’t read his mind, you know he doesn’t like it.”

Queenie shrugs, unconcerned. “He doesn’t hate it so much.” Newt turns away from Jacob, eyes honing in on Tina and warming before turning back to his companion. Tina ducks her head and her sister hides a smile. “He does. I know you see it, I know he feels it, and I know you both want it. You can be _happy_ , Teenie. Please don’t take it for granted.”

Tina smothers a pang of guilt and tightens her hold on her sister. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs as Queenie hiccups into her shoulder. “I _am_ sorry. If I could change the law, I would.”

“He’s going to ask me to marry him,” Queenie whispers, and Tina freezes. “And I’m going to say yes. Even if it means I have to snap my wand and walk away from magic forever.” Her lips tremble when she meets Tina’s gaze, but her eyes are defiant and sure. “It’s not right. You know it’s not right.”

Tina shushes her. “Don’t tell me anything else. Say yes if you have to, do whatever you need to be happy, but don’t tell me because I can’t support the guilt.”

Queenie chokes, then laughs. “I’m glad you approve, Tina. He’ll make me happy, and I’ll give him the family he’s always wanted. He has enough money saved so we can drop everything and leave, if we have to. It’ll all be okay, you’ll see.”

Tina nods, wanting desperately to believe her and so choosing to do so. By the time their men come to fetch them and cajole them into dancing, all traces of tears are gone.

*

Queenie and Jacob leave shortly after supper.

Newt presses a small, cheerfully-wrapped gift into each of their hands, and accepts Queenie’s kiss and Jacob’s firm embrace. He sees them to the door and there’s an air of relief about him when they are gone, leaving he and Tina blessedly alone. She crosses the room to put her arms around his shoulders, and before long he’s pinned against the door as she presses warm, open-mouthed kisses to the stubble on his jaw and cheek.

“I’ve missed you,” she breathes into his skin, and he ducks his head. Tina puts a finger under the shelf of his chin and raises his eyes to hers. “Don’t hide from me,” she admonishes gently, and he blinks.

“So sorry, Tina,” Newt murmurs while pulling her close and dropping a kiss into her hair. “I’m still not used to all of...all of _this_. It’s an adjustment.”

She chuckles and leans her face against his chest, inhaling his scent. “Then you shouldn’t have left for two months just before the holidays. We didn’t think you’d make it back before New Years.”

“Does this mean you don’t have a gift for me?” He pouts playfully, and Tina gasps in mock outrage. She swats him before pulling him over to the couch and settling him in with another glass of wassail, generously spiked with brandy. He hums happily as he sips, and his eyes glow when he turns toward her. “Thank you.”

Tina curls at his side and tucks her feet beneath his legs. He slings an arm over her shoulder and they watch the lowering dark through the heavy fall of snow, sipping their beverages and sometimes just _looking_ at each other. She presses close and he makes a rumbling sound in his chest, one suspiciously resembles a purr. Smiling gently, she lifts her hand to rub his scalp and he really _does_ purr, radiating warmth and contentment like a large cat.

“We’ve forgotten the gifts,” he mumbles eventually, and his eyes are half-closed when she turns to look at him. He smiles lazily. Tina leans forward until their noses touch, eyes fixed to his lips, and Newt watches her with sleepy feline intensity.

“We’ve never really kissed,” she muses aloud, and he comes awake all at once. “I’ve kissed your jaw and cheek, and you’ve kissed my hands and my wrists. But we’ve never kissed like men and women do. Why is that?”

Newt watches her carefully before taking a fortifying sip of his drink, draining the remains in one drought. He looks at the empty glass mournfully and sets it aside. “I believe it’s because a certain woman declared, in no uncertain terms, that she had no wish to do such things with me.” His tone aims for flippancy and fails, instead falling into flat dismissal. He winces and reaches for his glass to run uncertain fingers around the edge.

Tina steals his hands and speaks to his lap. “I’m sorry. I did say that, didn’t I?” Newt nods, and Tina looks thoughtful. “Is it strange, that we haven’t kissed? It’s been over a year.”

Newt shrugs one shoulder, warming to the subject. “There’s an inherent sexuality in kissing another person on the mouth. It speaks of a certain level of trust, and a willingness to share intimacies. There’s no time-table for reaching that point, I don’t think. I’ve never pursued a woman outside of you, so I’ve never given it much thought. I suppose I figured that you’d come to me, if and when you were ready.”

“You were waiting for me?” Tina asks tonelessly, and Newt nods carefully. He watches as Tina’s face transfigures, shifting into an elated expression that steals his breath. “You _were_ waiting for me,” she breathes, and her smile is bright enough to light the room. Something warm fills his chest, and he absently lifts a hand to rub the skin over his heart, which suddenly feels three sizes too large for the space it occupies. Tina leans forward until their foreheads touch, and he can smell citrus and brandy on her breath.

“Would you kiss me now, if I asked you to?” Tina whispers, and he has to swallow twice before he can answer.

“Yes,” he rasps, and clutches the couch cushions to keep from floating away.

“Then kiss me,” and Newt leans forward to meet her halfway.

Her lips are softer than the skin of her wrists, exquisitely sculpted and a perfect fit against his own. They slant their mouths together and move in harmony, sharing air and heat and the essence of their souls. Newt finds she tastes much like she smells, sweet and slightly tangy with a distinct undercurrent of alcohol. Her lips part in a captive sigh and he daringly deepens the kiss, until the wet velvet of her tongue tentatively rises to meet his. He suckles the muscle into his mouth, groaning happily, and she permits it while her nails dig into his skin.

Then it’s over, and she’s leaning back to stare at him, lips swollen and eyes lidded and hair mussed. He can’t resist reaching out to touch so he does, the calloused pads of his fingers glancing over her cheek, her chin, the line of her jaw. She swallows convulsively and presses his fingers to her mouth, and Newt cannot quell the fissure of possessive pride that works through him.

“Merlin’s beard,” she breathes, and he nods dumbly in agreement. “Merlin’s _beard_ ,” she repeats, a little stronger, and then she falls forward to wind her arms around his neck and everything else—gifts, snow, their lengthy separation—is forgotten in the mutual give-and-take of their mouths, hot on each other.

*


	4. Chapter Four

*

**_November, 1929_ **

Newt returns from Australia to a somber country. Tina isn’t at the docks to meet him, which is unusual, and he feels strangely untethered as he ambles to the closest alley to Disapparate away.

The troubles haven’t reached the southern hemisphere yet so he used his remaining Australian funds to pack a chest with all manner of food and supplies, anticipating economic turmoil upon his return to New York. Then he’d cast his strongest stasis spells, shrunk it carefully, and tucked it into his coat pocket. His fingers ghost over it when he materializes before the Goldstein apartment, and he knocks on the door out of politeness, not expecting anyone to be home.

He’s reaching for his key when the door is flung open, and a very disheveled Tina meets him on the berm. He rocks back a step, caught off-guard and nearly sent reeling. Then he takes in her appearance and concern fills his chest.

“Tina, are you alright?”

She rolls her eyes and flings the door open, gesturing him inside. “Do I _look_ all right to you?” she snaps, and he wisely chooses not to answer that. Instead, he sets his case down and sheds his jacket. Tina watches him dispassionately, vibrating with barely-harnessed energy, and for the first time in almost a year, he finds it difficult to meet her eyes.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” He keeps his voice low and soothing, subconsciously adopting the non-threatening posture which had served him so well in the field. Tina scoffs angrily but doesn’t walk away, and he counts that as a small victory. She gestures to herself, feet bare and wrapped in a dressing gown, and things start to come into focus.

“It’s noon on a Monday, and I’m _home_ ,” she growls. “So what do _you_ think the problem is, Mr. Scamander?”

Newt winces internally but doesn’t allow it to show. He can’t quite discern why the comment hurts, so he decides to let it go for now. Instead, he inches closer and focuses just to the left of her face. “Did you put yourself on the line for a victim again? Or did the economic troubles effect MACUSA too?” Tina chokes and buries her face in her hands, and Newt advances another step. “Whatever it is,” he murmurs gently, “You are strong and capable, Tina. You can handle this.”

Her shoulders shake and he lets out a long, relieved breath. Tina doesn’t resist when he pulls her into his arms, and her tears soak his jacket and the shirt beneath. “The No-Maj economy is all balled up,” she manages between choked breaths. “The American wizard economy depends on _theirs_ , so when they make mistakes, we suffer even worse for it. MACUSA just eliminated half their Auror staff, based on seniority. I was only a Junior Investigator, so I was one of the first to go. Queenie still has her job, but it isn’t enough to make ends meet.” Her hands shake when she wipes her eyes, and Newt’s heart aches. “Thanksgiving is next week, and we’ve no money for it, and I don’t feel very thankful even though I know I _should_!”

Newt presses her to his chest as she cries herself out. When her sobs devolve into messy hiccups and she is left wrung out and trembling, he tenderly clean her face with a wrinkled but clean hankie, and presses kisses into her forehead. She eventually produces a watery smile and pushes away, drifting across the kitchen in obvious embarrassment to fetch a glass of water. He lets her go and busies himself with pulling the trunk out of his pocket.

“What is that?” she asks when he sets it on the table, her curiosity getting the best of her. Instead of answering, he taps it with his wand. The table groans under the new weight, and Newt throws open the lid and allows her to peek inside. Her eyes widen in disbelief, reaching to touch the supplies within.

“You’ll not need to worry about eating for a while,” he says, shifting from foot to foot. Tina turns her disbelieving gaze onto him and he frowns. “In cities, food is typically one of the most expensive commodities. It stands to reason that inflation would cause it to quickly become near unattainable,” he explains, curling his fingers nervously. “This way, all your funds can go to housing and other necessities. I’ll feel much better knowing that you and your sister are properly cared for.”

Tina’s eyes fill with tears once more, and Newt can’t contain his exasperation. He exhales through pursed lips and folds his arms across his chest. “It’s not charity, so don’t act as though it is. I am simply making sure that the woman I—the woman I have _intentions_ for, is fed and healthy. I would be remiss for me to allow you to suffer.”

Tina shakes her head. “It’s not that.” She speaks to the table, hands clenched into fists. “Queenie and Jacob are engaged. She was supposed to move in with him at the end of the year, and I don’t know now if she’s still going to, or if she’s staying here. I have no _job_ , Newt. I’m not going to be able to afford this place on my own. And I can’t ask Queenie to stay, because I refuse to get in the way of her happiness.” She knots her fingers together and slumps into herself.

Newt’s eyes lose focus as his mind races, putting pieces together and weighing probabilities. He thinks of the parchment he received last week, and of the ring he’d bought while in Italy, a simple band of white gold inlaid with pearlescent shell. An idea begins to form, and he’s careful to keep his expression neutral when he crosses the room to Tina.

Newt wraps his arms around her from behind and drops small kisses onto the line of her shoulder, until she sighs deeply and relaxes against him. “That’s better,” he murmurs, and pulls out a chair while admonishing her to sit. “Here, love. Rest, and allow me to make you some food. Then you and I will have a little chat about our future.”

*

Lunch turns out to be canned tomato soup and fried bologna on bread. It’s simple but hearty, and it takes the chill out of the apartment and Tina’s heart. She murmurs her thanks and Newt inclines his head before cleaning up with a few flicks of his wand. Then he reaches across the table and threads his fingers through hers, green eyes earnest upon her face.

“I had _intended_ to ask you something else entirely on this trip,” he begins bluntly, and Tina goes red from her hairline to the collar of her shirt. Newt pretends not to notice. “But now I find myself in a unique position. Tina, how would you feel if I made you aware of a job opportunity? The salary is a pittance but I promise that you shall never be bored. You’ll get to see new peoples and cultures, without having to worry about influencing them in any way. Best of all, you’ll have the freedom to travel, and you’ll be able to put your skills learned at MACUSA to good use.”

Tina steeples her fingers and gives him a suspicious look. He is heartened to see that the look of world-weary fatigue has left her, for the time being. “What is this job?” she asks, and her narrow-eyed regard reminds him fondly of the first time they’d met, when she shoved him into a wall and demanded to know who he was. He grins broadly and unabashedly, and Tina blinks in confusion.

“My research assistant,” he says with relish, watching her eyes wide in understanding. “It could be perfect, Tina. No more long separations. No more exhausted owls traveling to all parts of the world, just so we can share a few words. You can be by my side as much as you want, or as little. We can have you home for the holidays. Consider it a trial run for...well, the _other_ question I had meant to ask you.” He blushes when he stares at his hands. “The Ministry has been pestering me to get one for some time—the book and its revisions, it’s all quite a lot to put on one man’s shoulders. I’ve hesitated because I did not _want_ to travel with anyone else, and I can’t help but see this as a fortuitous opportunity.”

Tina still looks gob-smacked, so he forces himself to calm down. “Please consider it, Tina. I would like very much for you to come with me, but I understand if you have no inclination to wander to all corners of the earth. I will respect your decision, whatever it is.”

Tina snaps her jaw shut, and her eyes spark as she looks at him. “Newt. Will I be employed by you, or the Ministry of Magic?”

“The Ministry,” he replies promptly. “The fact that you are an American should pose no problem.”

Tina nods. “Good. That’s good. What’s the salary?”

“Three Sickles a week,” he growls, and when she looks confused he clarifies. “Hardly enough to live on, but I assure you that many of the things we need come with me.” He gestures toward his case. “It will be no trouble to make you a separate sleeping quarters, and two can eat as cheaply as one. You’ll be able to put your money away, or to send it to Queenie.”

“Sleeping quarters...in your case? So, we wouldn’t be staying in strange lodging all the time?”

He shakes his head, warming to the subject. “Never. The ministry provides a stipend in certain areas, and I’ve always put that away for a rainy day. I usually find a quiet corner for my case, or a cave. In some instances, I’ve built a rough lean-to and stashed it under there. Then I place my strongest protective spells and wards. It’s always worked well for me, and as you know, things have a habit of going pear-shaped when I’m around.”

Tina utters a small bark of laughter and Newt grins in unabashed relief. “That’s true,” she admits. “And I’m glad we won’t be in hostels all the time. Okay, last question: what were you going to ask me instead?”

“Oh, I was going to ask you to—” Newt cuts himself off with a choked sound, and Tina ducks her head to giggle into her sleeve. Her dark eyes dance at him from across the table, and he has to look away because suddenly he’s having trouble breathing. He thinks of the ring, heavily charmed against niffler theft and tucked safely away in his pocket, and wonders.

“I almost had you,” Tina giggles, and she stands to hug him. “Ask me when you’re ready, Newt. I think you know what my answer is going to be.”

Newt nods, stunned, and she bends to kiss him. They’re both slightly breathless when they part. He stands and leads her toward the couch, intent on conversation of a different sort altogether, and leans forward to capture her lips. “Yes, I think I do,” he murmurs, and then is mouth and hands are on her, and thinking becomes impossible.

*

They are reading together comfortably when Queenie comes home, and she takes one look at Newt before beaming and pulling him into a hug. “She’ll say yes,” she promises him in a low voice, and her smile nearly stops his heart. “And she wants to go with you very badly. Oh Newt, you don’t know how happy you’ve made her, just by being home and bringing her hope again.”

“I wish to always see her happy,” he replies with peeling honesty, and Queenie squeezes his arm. “You do,” she promises him with a tremulous smile. “You really, truly do.” She embraces him one last time before drifting away to hug her sister. Then she digs into the chest still dominating the table to prepare them a lovely supper.

Newt sends an owl off to the Ministry after they eat, while Tina hovers anxiously and Queenie does her best to distract and reassure them both. Then there’s nothing left to do but wait, and Queenie absconds to Jacob's, leaving Newt and Tina alone and rather at a loss for what to do. They wind up on the couch, joined at the mouth with hands tangled in hair and clothing, before separating reluctantly and retreating to their respective beds.

It takes a week for a reply to arrive, and that time is spent mostly locked within the apartment. Tina helps Newt with his creatures, and learns more than she ever thought she’d need to know about the living habits of various species. She also learns of their dietary needs, and their schedules, and soon she realizes that he’s introducing her to the things she’ll need to know as they work together. Tina throws herself into it with that realization, and by the end of the week she has a journal of her own, full of notations and useful information.

The Ministry owl arrives at an obscenely late hour. Newt springs from his bed and unties the roll of parchment, giving the tired bird a treat and a place to perch. His fingers tremble as he unfurls the missive, and his eyes dart over it rapidly. He reaches the bottom and starts reading again, a slow, unbelieving expression infusing his face.

“Well? What does it say?” Tina asks, unable to keep the quaver from her voice. Newt’s eyes are wide when they meet hers.

“They said yes,” he exclaims, and his face splits into a delighted grin. “They’ve already contacted MACUSA and received glowing recommendations from both Director Graves and Madam Picquery. There’s a bundle making it’s way over, too big for an owl—confidentiality agreements, employment clauses and the like.” He chokes as his eyes search hers, pleading and hopeful. His hand trembles when he reaches out to her. “Tina. This is wonderful news. Please tell me you’ll take the position. Please come with me.”

Tina nods, feeling the prickle of tears, and the relief of a burden lifted. “Of course, Newt,” she promises, and her voice is scratchy with emotion. “I’ll go with you anywhere you want, anytime you want. I couldn’t _not_ go.”

Newt throws his arms around her and lifts her from her feet, pulling her into an expansive embrace. She laughs, musical and free, and he peppers her upturned face with kisses. “Tina,” he breathes. “Tina, Tina, Tina, the only thing that could make me happier would be—” He freezes, and then sets her gently back on her feet. His eyes sweep over her face, reading the emotions there. Then he swallows, and Tina watches his throat work, fascinated.

“The only thing that could make me _happier_ , would be if you were mine entirely for our journeys.” He speaks slowly, feeling out his words, and then flicks his fingers toward the other side of the room. Something small and dark flies into his hand, and he fetches a deep breath as he looks down at it. He meets her gaze, and Tina’s breath catches in her throat. His eyes are wide and vulnerable and full of tremulous _hope_.

“I said I would do this when the time felt right, and right now feels perfect.” Newt inhales deeply and let’s it out slowly, obviously gathering his courage and resolve. “I can think of no other woman suited to my quirks and eccentricities. I can think of no one else who can find it in their heart to love a nundu, or willing to learn how to delouse a demiguise. I never imagined I would fall in love, but here I am. I am yours entirely, Porpentina Goldstein, and while you have no need for a husband, I find myself longing for the job.” 

He flips opens the box with fumbling fingers, revealing the simple but precious ring. His voice trembles as he finishes. “Will you marry me, Tina? I am a selfish man, but I promise it would be the culmination of my life’s work to ensure your happiness every day.”

Tina reaches out with shaking fingers to touch the ring. The band is cool against her skin as she plucks it from the box and holds it up to him. “Put it on,” she breathes, and he fumbles only a little when he place it on the third finger of her left hand. The ring sits true, a perfect fit, and Newt closes his eyes and tips his forehead against hers.

“Thank you, Tina,” he gasps, and her thumb finds his tears and brushes them away. “You’ve made me happy beyond all comprehension.” Tina nods and sways forward, kissing him gently. It’s still dark outside the window, and they’ve nothing pressing planned for the day, so she leads him to her bed and they tangle together.

Tina kisses him, and sometimes she touches him, until his heart races and his chest heaves; Newt kisses her, and sometimes he touches her, until her toes curl and her joy expands to encompass them both. Dawn finds them entwined and happy, joined at the lips, talking occasionally, and planning their future.

In the other room and unbeknown to both, Queenie tunes into the pleasant hum of their thoughts and begins to plan for their wedding, a soft smile playing about her lips.

*


	5. Epilogue

*

**_October, 1930_ **

They wed under a blue October sky. Tina insists on a canopy and Newt can think of no reasonable objection. He ensures she has whatever is required to make her happy, despite the challenges of the unstable economy, and it’s worth every cent and worry when his bride beams at him upon her approach.

They share their vows beneath blue brocade, the precise shade of the jacket that had started it all, and his hands tremble as he pushes the ring onto her finger. Pickett acts as ring bearer, and he fulfills his duty with a series of happy clicks. Newt thanks him in a murmur, luminous eyes never wavering as he swears himself to her.

Their wedding is a fusion of traditional Jewish vows, wizarding ceremony and American pomp, and it somehow fits them perfectly. Newt gamely steps on a glass to end the vows, and their guests lift them onto chairs and dance them around while they hold opposing ends of a handkerchief. They are returned breathlessly to earth to dance slowly, spinning around and around the floor as people talk, laugh and eat around them. They hold each other close to the end, and the day closes with them being seen off on a tide of rice and well-wishes.

Their honeymoon is a short affair, three days in a hotel in New York. They don’t make love, their wedding night—Tina nerves are frayed and Newt senses the tension she carries. Instead, they spend the evening comfortably tangled, touching, teasing, pleasing, sipping champagne and making plans for their life together. Newt fetches her breakfast in the morning, and feeds her strawberries dipped in chocolate at noon, and rubs her back, her shoulders, her arms in the evening.

Tina welcomes the secret parts of him into herself that night, and later she thinks that, in the long and storied history of humanity, the expression of love has never been so pure, and no woman has ever felt so _wanted_.

They return to their apartment to discover that little has changed. She stumbles over her new signature and laughs with every magical correction. He forgets about his new, simple ring, and she sees his surprise every time it clinks against his glass or the doorknob. They cook, they clean, they revise and take notes—they fall into sweet domesticity. At night, he sometimes tucks her into sleep, and sometimes tucks himself _into_ her, and every act of intimacy brings them closer and closer still, until she can no longer discern where she ends and he begins.

Seven weeks into their marriage, when the season has tipped over to winter, she hears the front door open and close from down in the case, and before long he’s standing besides her. His smile splits his face in two, as it always does, and his eyes shine at her, green-gold and joyous. There’s a fine parchment bundle in his hands, two steamer tickets poking out.

“How does Eastern Europe sound?” Newt asks, and Tina sets aside a beaker to hide the shaking in her hands. She reaches out to take his wrist and he captures her hands. He’s wonderfully earnest as he awaits her response, and Tina can’t contain her smile.

“Sounds good, Mr. Scamander,” she declares, and he firms his smile. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and Tina can’t be sure if she’s imagining the moisture there. She reaches up to brush it away and he presses his cheek into her hand, making a content noise in the back of his throat. He sets down the envelope and embraces her wholly, speaking into her hair.

“Then, Mrs. Scamander, I suggest you pack a bag. We have a ship to catch.”

*

**Author's Note:**

> Blame Diggy and @loon-whisperer for this, because they encouraged it! ;)
> 
> Thanks to Diggy and Kemara for the beta-read. Thanks to loon-whisperer for the help with Jewish convention.


End file.
